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    Even Santa Has To Read His List (And Check It Twice)

    | Australia | Uncategorized

    (I’m working in layby (AKA layaways) and dealing with the Christmas shopping rush.)

    Customer: “Can I organize delivery for this item?”

    Me: “We can, but we can’t guarantee it will arrive before Christmas because you didn’t pay it off by the 1st.”

    Customer: “What? Are you trying to ruin Christmas? My grandchildren will cry and find out there is no Santa. Nobody told me I had to pay it off by then!”

    Me: “I’m sorry, all the terms and conditions of the layby were printed on your receipt…” *I point it out on the receipt* “See, right here, above where you signed to say that accepted them.”

    Customer: “But nobody TOLD me to read them!”

    Million Dollar Baby (Carrots)

    | Montreal, Canada | Uncategorized

    Me: “Welcome to [kitchen store]. Can I help you with anything?”

    Customer: “Oh! Aren’t you a lovely young thing! I need something that will cut vegetables into slices. You see, I’m quite the chef, I have a very expensive home in New York, and I have a million dollar kitchen!”

    Me: “Well, we have a variety of slicers…”

    (I bring him to a shelf with vegetable slicers. He proceeds to open a knapsack and takes out a cucumber, a carrot, other assorted vegetables.)

    Me: “Sir, what are you doing?”

    Customer: “I have to test the slicer! I can’t buy just any old slicer! What will they think?”

    (He begins slicing a cucumber with one of the models on display.)

    Me: “What will who think?”

    Customer: “MY GUESTS! MY GUESTS! THEY’LL JUDGE ME WHEN THEY COME TO VISIT MY MILLION DOLLAR KITCHEN! Ugh! This slicer is horrible! Look at that! I nearly cut my own finger off! This is despicable. I’ll be back tomorrow, dear, and I expect you to have more advanced slicers by then.”

    (He begins stroking my arm frantically, so my co-worker politely escorts him out of the store. His cucumber, mind you, stayed behind.)

    The Funny Pharm-acy

    | United Kingdom | Uncategorized

    (I work in a shopping mall. On my lunch break, I visit the pharmacy. A woman runs into me.)

    Customer: “You! Where do you keep your toilet paper?”

    Me: “In my cupboard.”

    Customer: “How dare you talk to me that way! I want to talk to your manager!”

    Me: “I’m sorry, I don’t work here.”

    Customer: “Oh, so now you’re going to get into trouble, it’s ‘I don’t work here’, eh?”

    Me: *pointing to the company logo on my shirt* “No, I genuinely do not work here. I work in [shop name], see?”

    Customer: “So you don’t wear your uniform either? Where’s your manager?” *turns to make-up counter employee* “Are you her manager, missy?”

    Make-up Counter Employee: “Yes, yes I am.” *turns to me, winking* “Don’t do that again.”

    Customer: “Thank you! See, now I can shop here again!” *to make-up counter employee* “You! Where do you keep your toilet paper?”

    Lost & (Dumb)Found

    | Kansas, USA | Uncategorized

    (A customer calls our store claiming she’s lost her phone. The routine is to replace the phone if insured, to give them a loaner phone for a few weeks, or to sell them another phone. She has turned down all of those options.)

    Me: “I’m sorry, but I don’t know what else we can do for you besides giving you a loaner phone or selling you another one.”

    Customer: “No, I have a replacement.”

    Me: “Maybe I’m misunderstanding. Why are you calling us?”

    Customer: “I lost my phone.”

    Me: “…and you already have a replacement for it?”

    Customer: “Yes.”

    Me: “Were you calling to ask if you left it here?”

    Customer: “No.”

    Me: “I’m sorry ma’am, but I really don’t understand what you’re asking me to do.”

    Customer: “Where’s my phone?”

    Me: “We have no way of tracking where your phone is at any given time. I’m sorry.”

    Customer: “But I lost my phone. Where is it?”

    Me: “I’m truly sorry, but unless you’re wanting another phone to replace your old one, I really can’t help you.”

    Customer: “So can you transfer me to your lost and found, then?”

    Me: “How about I give you our customer service number, and maybe they can help you out?”

    Customer: “Okay…”

    (Afterwards, as I was making a memo in the account, I noticed that she’d already called customer service twice. Both times, the call rep had told her we had no way to track her phone down by satellite, network towers, or police scanners.)

    Domestically Dimwitted

    | Columbus, OH, USA | Uncategorized

    (Our store is famous for our women’s scents. I see a male customer looking uncomfortable.)

    Customer: “Uh, miss? Can you help me?”

    Me: “Of course. Who is it that you are shopping for today?”

    Customer: “Well, we had a Secret Santa thing at the office, and I got this guy…um…he’s the kind of person with a domestic partner.”

    Me: “Oh! I gotcha! We’ve got some great pre-made gift sets in the men’s department. There’s a wonderful shaving set and body washes, too.”

    (I lead him to the men’s section. On the way, the customer sees a flowery red and pink gift box with one of our most popular woman’s fragrances inside.)

    Customer: “What about this one? These are on sale, right?”

    Me: “Well yes, but that’s really a more feminine fragrance, a strong floral. Let me show you–”

    Customer: “No, no, no. DO-MES-TIC PART-NER. I really think he’ll like this one better. You know, cause he’s…well, you know…”

    Me: “Sir, we could set up a gift card for you. That way, he can pick out his own body care since you are unsure.”

    Customer: “I don’t think you understand me. He’s…the guy is gay. I’ll take this one.”

    (To the unfortunate gift recipient: I am so terribly sorry! I’ll be thinking of you this Christmas!)

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